Once outside, Claire scanned Dustin’s yard. His Jeep was gone. He must have left just minutes ago. A twinge of sadness slipped through her chest.
She pulled Fran’s Louie Vuitton satchel from the seat. She ran her fingers along the embossed leather. She reviewed enough magazine publications to know this was the latest trendy set of luggage. Nothing about Fran had changed.
Her sister glowed from a tanning bed and looked as though she didn’t suffer from being stuck at a desk with her trim, toned figure. The modern cut of her hair, her manicure, and her clothes and accessories gave Fran a polished appearance Claire could never possess.
It was hard not to feel dowdy next to Fran’s glittery persona. This was nothing new except the degree and the stakes. How would Dustin react when he had two variations of the same woman? One in shimmering detail and the other a vintage model.
He had to know Fran was hooked up and doing well. Only a fool would hang his dreams on thinking Fran would be available with open arms considering her Manhattan lifestyle. It made sense that he would settle for the sister who was free.
She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t let seeing Fran for less than an hour shred her confidence. She marched up the steps and flung open the door. She dropped the case onto the floor with a thud. “We need to talk.”
Fran held up a hand. “Yes, I appreciate your help. Claire’s done a remarkable job but I’m here now. Thanks, Bob. You too. We’ll see you then.”
“We need to talk,” Claire repeated.
“All right. What’s going on? You dropped my luggage.”
Claire came over to the sofa and slunk down. She twisted her fingers. “Look, Fran, I think we need to discuss some things.”
“Yes, I just spoke to Bob. He’s so funny.” Fran’s gaze moved around her face. “Claire, do me a favor. My neck and shoulders are tight as a drum. We can talk while you give me one of those massages you used to do. Please, sis.” Fran’s voice was nearly a whine.
Claire blew out a breath. “Fine, turn around.”
Her sister smiled brilliant white teeth. She lifted her hair and presented her back to Claire. Claire rubbed her hands across her jeans to warm her fingers. She massaged her sister’s neck and shoulders.
“Hold on, your necklace is getting in the way.” She unclasped the chain, and Fran set the necklace on the table.
She pulled her collar down. “Fran when did you get a tattoo?”
Fran laughed. “Well, you said you were getting one, so I thought, why not?”
“But I didn’t end up getting it.”
“No, you chickened out. Didn’t mean I should. Do you like?
“It’s very unusual.” The tattoo was an intricate graphic design, the size of a half-dollar and situated where Fran’s neck and shoulder met. She touched it, and her sister giggled.
“It’s on a spot that when kissed, I swear it sends me over the edge. Better than a road sign. Trust me, it works wonders.”
“Doesn’t your fiancé already know where your soft spots are?” Claire stopped massaging her sister’s back.
“He may, but now I don’t have to tell anyone else either.” Her sister’s deep, throaty laugh sent a chill careening down Claire’s spine.
“Fran, I thought you guys were getting married. When did that change?”
“It hasn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder at Claire. “Don’t sound so high and mighty. He travels. I travel. It gets lonely sometimes and—” Her sister inhaled. “Sex takes the edge off. Helps me relax so I can concentrate. Jesus Christ, don’t be so provincial. I thought you, being on the West Coast, would understand.”
“Being unfaithful isn’t part of some no-fly-morality zone once you enter Pacific Standard Time.” Claire clamped her mouth shut. Unless anyone considered her own erotica imaginings. She had written that one novella about the heroine who enjoyed threesomes. But that was fantasy, far different from an engaged woman having a fling. Her cheeks flamed. Crud, just wait until Fran heard about the erotica she had written and was about to have published. That would be so rich.
“There, that’s all I can offer right now. I’m tired. We still need to decide on what to do with all the stuff in the house. What did Bob say?”
“We’ll meet with him this week. Regarding the house, I’ve a punch list of what I believe is our best course of action. Let’s go from room to room and make notes.”
“Okay. I’ve a list too.”
Fran patted her hand. “Right. Let me change and then we’ll begin. Is there any coffee worth drinking here?”